Amortentia and Asphodel
by C.Maladroit
Summary: Everyone at Hogwarts seems to be hiding something. This complex tetradecagon surrounds two lovers as the struggle to survive their sixth year. Will their love survive, or will every one else's feelings get in their way? Rated me for adult themes/language.
1. The Beginning

_I cannot go._ Draco thought. _After what that bastard did to me. How DARE he invite me to go!_ Draco started pacing the room in anger. All the memories he had worked so hard to forget came running back, playing like a sick video made to torture him. Five years had already gone by, but as he looked at the invitation laid out before him he remembered everything as if it happened that week. He remembered the day they met as if it were yesterday.

Draco was excited to be starting school. Not only did it mean leaving his overprotective parents, but it also a time to finally have friends. His parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, never allowed him to have friends. They were always too afraid he would embarrass the family name. Draco received his acceptance letter a week before his eleventh birthday. It was, at the time, the happiest moment of his life.

x~x~x

The wind was crisp that Wednesday morning. Draco awoke to his house elf, Dobby, bringing him a cup of tea.

"Master Malfoy?" Dobby started, looking at the ground timidly. The house elf was showing his usual air of submission, however there was a small glint of eagerness in his voice.

"What is it?" Draco snapped. He needed to act like he hated the help talking to him. His father always told him his place as a superior race. He was too good to talk to the likes of a house elf.

"Madam Malfoy wishes to speak to you. She said something about the owl post."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. He looked at his calendar. May 29th. One week from his eleventh birthday. Why did it arrive so early?

"Thank you, Dobby." Draco said, curtly nodding, trying not to beam the biggest smile he had ever flashed.

After chugging a cup of scalding hot tea, he dressed in presentable clothes and made his way down the stairs toward the dining room, trying to conceal his excitement.

Despite knowing he was a wizard, he couldn't help having a feeling of apprehension. What if, in fact, he was a squib? He shuddered at the thought of what his parents would do. Probably lock him in the basement, or kill him. His family was really into the whole "Purebloods are superior" thing. He knew he had magic blood, when he was three he vividly remembered getting mad and magically lighting the drapes on fire. However, the fear of being a squib arose causing his heart to beat faster and harder with every step he took closer to the dining room.

Draco entered the dining room to find his mother sitting at the far end of the large 18 person table. She looked up at him and beckoned him over to her.

"You wanted to see me mother?" Draco said, sitting down next to his mother.

"Yes Draco," Narcissa said, snapping her fingers once in the air. Dobby entered at once, bowing his head and presenting a round silver platter with a letter sealed with a coat of arms on top of it. "An owl post arrived this morning for you."

Draco nodded curtly as he held back from jumping up and down. He calmly took the letter addressed to him.

Draco Lucius Malfoy

Malfoy Manner

Wiltshire, England

x~x~x

Draco was so excited he had to stop himself from skipping as he went through Diagon Alley with his father. His father dropped him off with a sack of galleons while he went off to buy the books. His mother was going to meet him at Olivanders, according to his father.

Draco entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions attempting to surpress his excitement. Malfoy's were not supposed to show emotion or act like giddy school girls according to his father. As he entered the store, Madam Malkin, a squat witch dressed in mauve, walked up to him.

"Good morning Mr. Malfoy." Madam Malkin said with a tone of fear. Draco's heart sank. He understood _why_ the Wizarding World feared his family, but he was just a boy. The anger bubbled up inside him. _I'll give her something to be scared about,_ Draco thought, _act like father would._

"I need a school robe." Draco said, with an air of importance that he saw his father use on more than one occasion.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Right this way." The witch led Draco to a footstool in the back of the shop, while another witch slipped a robe over his head and pinned it to the right length. _God this is boring._ He thought. Just then he heard the bell go off as a small boy with messy black hair and broken glasses, wearing clothes that were way too big for him, walked in.

*"Hogwarts, dear?" Draco heard the witch ask. Before the boy could speak she continued. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." Draco felt his face go hot as he felt the boy's eyes on him. He did not know why, but every time a boy stared at him he felt funny and embarrassed. The witch dragged him to the stool next to him. Draco looked at the boy. He was very handsome- if you can call an eleven year old that. He had a soft face with black hair that stuck up in all sorts of crazy directions. His eyes were the most startling green he had ever seen. _Despite his outfit, he looks to be pureblood. Father always said that important purebloods are the only true magical people and I can feel the magic radiating off this boy._ Draco figured that since he was pureblood, he needed to seem strong if he wanted to talk to the boy. Maybe if he told the boy he was a bully the boy would take a kind liking to him.

"Hello," Draco said, feeling nervous, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said the boy. He sounded nervous as well.

"My father's next door buying books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said Draco. He realized he needed to sound cool; maybe he would talk about brooms and Quidditch. Maybe while he was at it, he could start new and make it seem like he was a tough guy, not a momma's boy.

"Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years cannot have their own." The boy seemed to be barely listening. He had a look on his face like he had never heard of racing brooms. Draco found this funny. "I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Even the thought of attempting to bully his father and smuggling a broom into Hogwarts was terrifying. He had no clue why he said that, but the boy looked bored, so he pressed on.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?"

"No." The boy said.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

The boy had a look like he had no clue what Quidditch was. Maybe the boy _wasn't _a pureblood! Either way the boy didn't really seem impressed, so Draco decided to talk about his Quidditch abilities.

"_I_ do—father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Draco wondered if he was being too snobbish. Then he thought of his father, and how his father would think he was being too _nice_. Apparently the boy did not find Quidditch interesting, so went on to discuss houses.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." said the boy. He looked embarrassed. He was probably going to be a Hufflepuff. _Father always said Hufflepuff's are the losers of Hogwarts._

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imaging being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm" is all the boy replied. Draco sighed. The boy seemed to dislike him. Just then he saw a half giant out the window. "I say, look at that man!"

The boy seemed to light up. "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts."

Draco remembered the stories his father told him about Hagrid, and decided to share them with the boy.

"Oh, I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's a gamekeeper." said the boy, sounding annoyed.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage—_lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant." the boy replied, coldy.

Draco seemed annoyed. This boy was insane. He thought someone brilliant that father thought savage. Who _was_ this boy! And why was he with the oaf?

"_Do_ you?" he said with a sneer that his father would be proud of. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

The boy's green eyes darkened. "They're dead." Draco felt bad, but again, remembering his father's advice, did not show it.

"Oh, sorry. But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?" He asked, the question on this kid's blood still haunting him. If he was a mudblood, as his father called them, then he knew he couldn't be friends with the boy.

"They were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean." Draco felt relieved. _He _is_ a pureblood. Now I can talk to him about what my father told me to talk about._

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" Draco said. Draco really did not believe this, but since he was a pureblood, then he _must _share the same beliefs as his father did. "They're just not the same, they've never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families." The boy looked sad and angry at the same time. Maybe he was one of those wizarding families who are what his father called "blood traitors" like the Wealseys. _I'll find out his name so I can ask my father._ "What's your surname, anyway?"

"That's you done, my dear." Madame Malkin said to the boy, and without hesitation, he jumped off the stool, paid the witch, and ran off. *

Draco was curious as to who he was just talking to. He really wanted to find out if the boy was a blood traitor or not. _I guess I will just have to wait until Hogwarts and pray I see him again._

_**A/N: all between the two astericks (*) is dialogue from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling, rewritten in the view of Malfoy by me**_


	2. The Fated Train

The train ride was rickety. Draco was in a compartment with three boys; Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zambini. All three were the sons of his father's friends. Zambini seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, but the preceding two seemed a bit thick. Well, a bit was an understatement. They seemed absolutely moronic. He doubted either one even knew how to read. He decided to make these two his cronies. _If anything, they will be like body guards._ He figured he shouldn't have a hard time doing this, since his father was such a powerful man. His father had told him to become allies with the dumber and weaker, and have them look up to you. Gaining power from the ground up.

At this he remembered the boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He remembered how he tried making friends with him, but failed. He remembered the boy's impoverished looks. He tried befriending him without thinking of his father's wishes. He wanted to befriend the boy, disheveled, messy haired, and dressed in rags, for the soul reason of having a true friend. Besides, since Draco first saw him he couldn't help shaking an odd, but pleasant feeling he got when thinking of him. Something attracted Draco to this boy, but he didn't understand the attraction. Before he could delve into the matter more, the compartment door opened. The four looked up to see a bushy-haired girl with bucked teeth standing in the door way. She was already wearing her robes, which Draco found to be amusing.

"Excuse me, but has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one." her voice sounded bossy and rather annoying. She seemed like a know it all. Blaise shook his head, going back to his reading, Goyle and Crabbe looked at her like they didn't understand what she was saying. _They are a lot like Neanderthals_, Draco noted_. _Draco was the only one to really acknowledge the girl. "No, but we will tell you if we have."

"Thanks," the girl said. "I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?" Granger. Surely not a wizard name. She must be a muggle born, or a mudblood as his father called them.

"Draco Malfoy." Draco replied curtly. His father told him never to associate with Mudbloods.

"Nice to meet you. I'm glad I finally get to meet an old Wizard family! I've read all about the Malfoys, Blacks, and with other Wizarding families." The girl was talking fast. Clearly excited. Draco saw Blaise roll his eyes. Malfoy, despite feeling sorry for the girl, knew he could not show her a kindness, or his father would find out.

"Yes, the Malfoys are the wealthiest wizarding family alive. No need to ask if _you_ are a pureblood, with _that_ last name."

The girl frowned for only a second before changing the subject. "Do you know what house you will be in? I hope _I'm_ in Gryffindor." This didn't sound like the first time she had this conversation today. Draco decided to impress his new friends, show his power, and have a little fun.

"Please. You seem like a know it all muggle born with no social skills, therefore you will probably be a Hufflepuff, I bet you 'read all about' how lame they are. We, on the other hand, are _clearly_ going to be Slytherins, given our _pure_ lineage. So run along and be a good little muggle born." With this, his three companions laughed. He though his insults sounded lame, cliché, and outright mean. This girl seemed like she could have been a nice friend. But none-the-less, his father reminded him plenty of times that he had a reputation to uphold.

_"Remember, Draco," Lucius said with a stern look in his eyes, "while gaining the loyalty of those weaker than you, mudbloods and blood traitors are _nothing_ to you, so their loyalty will only bring filth to the purebloods."_

The girl looked hurt, as if she was just slapped in the face, but quickly straightened her posture as her face went cold and stern. "For your information, I believe I will be in Gryffindor, _not_ Hufflepuff. You might also like to know that while my parents might be dentists, that doesn't make me _any_ less of a witch than you are a wizard. Third of all, I am _not_ going to be shooed off by a bunch of idiots who can't even insult someone properly." She turned away in a huff. Draco was just about to wonder what a dentist was when she muttered something just audible enough to reach his ears. "Harry Potter and that Ron kid were nicer than these idiots."

"Wait! Muggle born! What did you just say?" Draco stood up and ran to the compartment door.

The girl, who was already a compartment down, turned around, a twisted smile on her face. "Oh, _now_ you want to talk to me. Well, I guess telling me would make me a _know it all_." She seemed to be enjoying this little game. Draco was in no mood for playing. He drew out his wand. He may have not known any real spells, but the girl didn't know that, and as long as she didn't call his bluff he was fine. The girl backed up a step, staring wide eyed at the wand. She was petrified.

"Don't get smart with me, muggle born." Draco warned. He would have used her name, but he couldn't pronounce it. _Stupid muggles, _he thought,_ why can't they give their children _normal_ names?_

The girl swallowed and looked up at him before taking a breath and speaking. "Fine. If you _must_ know, he's at the last compartment on the right." Draco lowered his wand; she didn't call the bluff and gave him the information he needed. The girl eyed him for a few seconds, as if seeing if he would raise it again, before running off.

Screw what his father said about the ground up! If he could befriend the golden boy-who-lived, then he could gain the loyalty of anybody in the school! He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, and straightened up, trying to look as leader-like as possible. "Come, you two," Draco said, with a voice that would have made his father proud, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across his face, "I think it's about time we pay the boy-who-lived a little visit."

Walking down the corridor, Draco's could hear his heart beat fast in his chest. He could feel his pulse in his temples, and a feeling of apprehension filled his body. He was going to meet the Golden boy of the wizard world and extend his hand of friendship. Rumors had it that he was in Diagon Alley on the 31 of July. Draco remembered feeling disappointed when he heard the news. He had been in Diagon Alley all day and never saw him. Thoughts filled his head about the moment ahead where he would meet the Golden Boy and extend a hand of friendship.

He pictured the scenario where would walk in the compartment, introduce himself, and state that he would be a good person to help him figure out the politics of the world he was so new to, then extend his hand out to the boy, who would be so grateful that he would grab it and they would firmly shake hands. _Five compartments to go, _Draco thought, quickening his pace. _Four compartments... Three compartments... Two compartments. Here it is. _Draco turned to the right and dropped his jaw.

He looked behind him to make sure there was no mistake. The other compartment had three giggling girls, no boys. He swallowed hard before turning to face the boy he met at Madam Malkins robe shop, and a ginger kid. The black haired boy looked the same, wearing far-too-large clothes, broken glasses, and disheveled hair. The boy was having a deep conversation with a boy who looked no better, wearing what looked like a hand-me-down hand-me-down sweater with dirt on his face. Draco remembered his father talking about a blood traitor family called the Weasley's, stating they were a family of red heads with freckles and more children then they had money. The boy had red hair, freckles, and the three time hand-me-downs gave one the impression of poverty, so he had to be a Weasley. _Father would _kill_ me if I associated with this kid._ Nonetheless, the Weasley was in the compartment with Potter, and his goal was imminent. Taking a deep, steady breath, he opened the door.

"Chudley Cannons is by far the best-" The red head stopped speaking and both looked at the door. Draco's eyes met Harry's. Draco hadn't noticed exactly how stunningly green Harry's eyes were that day. And his black, messy hair just covered the top of a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Realizing he was staring, he started to speak.

*"Is it true? They're saying all down the compartment that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry replied. He was distracted by something behind Draco. That's when Draco remembered the two idiots behind him.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco said, trying to sound nonchalant and careless, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy" He heard a snigger and cough. He snapped his head to the red haired boy. This boy, this filthy, penniless boy, was picking on his name? Draco was insulted. "You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford." the embarrassed and hurt look on the Weasley's face was bittersweet. He hated being mean, but he knew he had to in order to have the power his father wanted him to have, and he wanted to make the kid pay for laughing at his name. He quickly turned back to Potter, finding this the perfect opportunity to make his move.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sorts. I can help you there." With that he extended his hand. Potter just stood there, looking at his hand for what seemed like an eternity. He felt like an idiot standing there with his arm out, extending friendship to someone who was just staring. It seemed like ages before the boy spoke.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." His voice was a cool mixture of anger and benevolence. Draco felt like an idiot. He put his hand down to his side, as he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. _How _dare_ he make a fool of me! How _dare_ he reject my friendship! Does he _know_ who he is dealing with!_

Draco took a breath and spoke slowly, but with fire in each word. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang out with riffraff like the Weasley's and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." Draco didn't know why he brought the boy's parents up, but he did, and didn't feel like apologizing.

Both boys stood up, the Weasley's face going redder than his hair. "Say that again," he sneered.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered back. He was feeling courageous with his two body guards. He spotted the large pile of candy and food in the compartment as Potter threatened them. "Unless you get out now." Please. Two against one with the odds in his favor. It was Draco's turn to retaliate.

"Oh, but we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Draco realized he sounded five, not eleven. Goyle went to go reach for candy as a rat jumped out from the pile and bit him.*

* * *

><p>Draco stared at the invitation, knowing the memory of that fated first train ride affected his relationship with Harry forever. It was at that moment, when Harry refused his hand in friendship that Malfoy vowed to make his life a living Hell. <em>If I couldn't have him as a friend, I would have him as an enemy.<em>

**A/N: all between the two asterisks (*) is dialogue from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling, rewritten in the view of Malfoy by me.**


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